


Courfeyrac and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

by stopcallingmeapollo (GayMarauders)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, somewhat angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 10:58:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayMarauders/pseuds/stopcallingmeapollo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac has a hard day...but it may be looking up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courfeyrac and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "we have neighboring apartments and i found you sitting in the hall crying because you’re hella exhausted and you’re so tired you can’t get your key to work in the lock please stop crying i’m trying to help you" (from benbrolioanddudliet on tumblr)

It had been a long day. Enjolras was in the hospital– _again–_ and although he hadn’t been hurt too badly, he had given Courfeyrac quite a scare.  _I wish he’d stop picking fights with oversized Republicans,_ he thought tiredly as he trudged home to the apartment he, Enjolras, and Combeferre shared. Thankfully they lived walking distance from the hospital, since Combeferre was an intern there. 

Suddenly, he noticed a large, dark van pulling up next to him. His pulse picked up as the window rolled down. His muscles tensed, ready to run.

“Hey, dude…your backpack’s open, your stuff is kind of everywhere…thought you might want to know,” a voice called. The window rolled up again and the van took off, leaving Courf to breathe a sigh of relief before he registered what the man had said.  _My stuff is…oh. OH. OH SHIT!_

Courfeyrac turned around to find that his bag really was open, and papers were everywhere. He could see them scattered on the sidewalk for about a block behind him, fragments of his history paper strewn across his path. He quickly began to gather the sheets together, shoving them back in his pack as he went. Twenty minutes later, he had scavenged all the papers in sight, and he turned back around to continue his journey home.

Courf had made it about halfway home when he saw a large, shaggy dog walking past him across the street. It barked loudly, and he smiled and waved at it, calling out a tired but cheerful “Hullo!”. In doing so, however, he momentarily took his eyes off the sidewalk in front of him, and he failed to notice the large stick lying in his path until he found himself face-to-face with a rather disgruntled-looking snail. 

Courfeyrac sucked in air, coughing hard as the wind was knocked out of him. His palms hit the ground hard, and he could feel pebbles and dirt being ground into them. Shaking slightly, he pushed himself up and brushed himself off, wincing as he examined the angry red scrapes on his hands. He kicked out hard at the stick that tripped him, cursing it quietly.

The last three blocks were relatively uneventful. Courfeyrac breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed the stairs to his apartment and approached his front door, fumbling to pull his key out of his pocket. His hand, still stinging from his fall, shook as he tried to insert the key into the lock. He missed the keyhole once, twice, three times. After the fourth attempt, moaned listlessly, leaning his forehead against the door as the full weight of the day came crashing down on him.

It was when the tears started coming that Courf really gave up. He turned slightly and slid down the door, landing with a soft  _thump_ on the stoop. Pulling his knees up to his chin, he laid his arms across them and buried his head in the soft fabric of his sweater, tremors wracking his slight frame.

“Er…excuse me? Are you alright? I mean–do you need–are you alright?” a concerned voice broke Courf from his miserable reverie, and he looked up to meet a pair of startled brown eyes. For a moment he found himself unable to respond, caught off-guard by the appearance of what appeared to be Prince Charming, clutching a bad of groceries and clad in a sweatshirt from the local university.

Courf opened his mouth to respond, but to his dismay, a new wave of tears hit him and he only managed to get out the words “Key–won’t–I just couldn’t–my hands…” before he was too choked by sobs to go on.

The stranger’s face lit up with understanding, and he set his bag next to the door opposite Courfeyrac’s. Kneeling down, he took the key from Courf’s blood-stained hand and deftly unlocked the apartment, opening the door and looking down at him.

“Is that better?” he asked solicitously. Courf nodded and rose unsteadily to his feet, and Prince Charming– _I should really ask him his name, once I remember how to talk–_ reached out a hand to steady him. He took it gratefully and limped into the apartment, plopping down on the couch and gazing up at the other man, who looked rather awkward as he tried not to stare at Courfeyrac.

“Thank you. It’s been a long day,” Courf said weakly, smiling a  little at the relief on the other’s face as he finally put together a coherent sentence.

“I understand. I had one of those yesterday, myself. I got kind of lost after my first class and, well, let’s just say it took me quite a while to find my way home. Across the hall,” he added after a moment.

“What?” Courfeyrac asked uncomprehendingly, tearing his eyes away from the handsome stranger’s mouth as he realized that he had actually been saying something.

“I live across the hall.”

“Oh. Oh! You’re our new neighbour. The one who was singing along to _Lion King_ last night.” Courfeyrac smiled for real this time, remembering the impromptu serenade he and his flatmates had received the previous night.

“You heard that?!” Charming blushed. Courf thought he might have felt his heart stop beating for a moment at the sight.

“Yeah…you make a nice Simba,” he said, laughing as he wiped his eyes. “Say…my roommates are going to be at the hospital all night, you know.” The other man’s eyes widened slightly, and his blush deepened. 

“I…um…” he stuttered. 

Courf gasped as he realized what his statement had sounded like, and he laughed again as he added, “They’re going to be out all night, and I have some Disney movies on DVD. Not  _Lion King,_ but I’m sure you’d be a perfect Hercules _,_ if you don’t mind my singing all the Muses’ parts.” Charming’s entire body visibly relaxed and he smiled back at Courfeyrac.

“Oh! Yes. Yes, that would be nice, actually. Not that I wouldn’t–I mean, if you had–erm. Yes.” 

Courf bit back a smile at his new friend’s flustered monologue. “Of course, we can always see where that takes us.” His dark eyes flashed with mirth. “Although it might be nice to know your name, before we start singing duets. I’m Courfeyrac, by the way.”

“Marius.”


End file.
